Hero
by Captain Jackie Harkness
Summary: Dean has lost everyone. Sam is dead. Castiel is gone. Our hero feels the weight of grief heavy in his heart...


_Is this how it feels? To be alone? I thought I knew before..._

_Dean hadn't gone anywhere in days. He had sat in his car, parked just off the highway, and watched the traffic, sometimes sleeping and sometimes not. He didn't answer his phones, he didn't check the news for anything unusual, and he didn't even eat, despite the slow pain of starving._

_Sam and Castiel would be worried, but that was just the problem; someone who's dead couldn't really be bothered to worry. Dean lifted another near-empty bottle to his lips, downing the last drops of beer before tossing it aside, not caring that it had hit the window of his precious Baby. It had been a long time since Castiel had died, maybe a month, leaving Dean truly and completely alone in the world._

_As Dean closed his eyes, he saw the blood that had fallen from Sam's lips as he had slowly begun to fade. It was awful, that while he was there, his baby brother dying in his arms, he couldn't help but remember that it wasn't the first time. What really tore at his heart was that this time he wasn't coming back._

_Dean let out a cry of anguish, punching in the radio as it began playing one of Sam's favorite Kenny Chesney songs. He didn't care that he'd just broken his car, or his hand. Nothing mattered to him anymore. Nothing._

_Of course, losing Sam had killed Dean on the inside. He wanted to end his life as soon as Sam's had vanished from his eyes, but there was one thing that stopped him; the hand of a used-to-be angel, grabbing the knife he knew Dean had in his belt and holding it behind his back._

_"Give it back, Cas," he remembered saying._

_"I'll go to hell first," Castiel had replied. The memory made Dean laugh, just a little bit, through his tears as an eighteen wheeler passed by in the fast lane. He was always a stubborn little guy. Dean's stubborn little guy..._

_Dean had that knife back now. It was his passenger, lounged in the seat beside him, glinting at him as if to mock his pain. The demon-killing knife had done many great things for the three Hunters in the past, but now, seated in the Impala in the pitch black of night, it held nothing but a bad memory._

_Cas had insisted they keep Hunting after Sam died, a choice Dean would hate forever. They were on the trail of a werewolf pack when they'd run into the demon, though they weren't at all expecting her. Dean didn't even see her coming, but he wished he had, because then Castiel wouldn't have had to._

_She was attacking them before the Hunter knew she was there, using her ability to move objects to send the kitchen knives in a victim's home flying at them. One of them would have pierced him right in the heart if Cas hadn't jumped in the way._

_Dean had to watch as his companion fell to the ground, the blade of a chopping knife protruding from his chest. In rage, Dean ran at the demon, slicing her throat with the demon blade. It didn't matter, though; as he scooped Castiel up in his arms, a steady stream of red flowing from his heart, he knew he couldn't help him. Cas had grabbed a handful of Dean's shirt, looking him in the eyes, and then he never blinked. He had wept over those blue eyes, staring up at nothing, then and forever._

_Dean sobbed, burying his head in his hands and letting the cascade of tears bathe his fingers. With one hand he reached for the demon knife, bringing it to him and holding it tight. He rest his head back on the headrest, shaking as he brought the blade to his wrist. He didn't think about his life on this earth or his life after it as he dug the tip into his veins, dragging the blade closer towards his body through his arm. The blood flowed like a waterfall, and even just as he was trading hands, he could feel himself slipping away._

_Nothing was here for Dean Winchester, not anymore. No family, no friends... He thought this as he plunged the knife into the flesh on his other arm, pulling it all the way to his elbow before allowing it to fall to the floorboard. He leaned back, his bleeding arms rest at his sides. The scarlet color that he was far too familiar with leaked out all over the car, dripping into the carpet and staining the seat._

_The lights of passing cars blurred, the noises of roaring tires sounding distant. Dean smiled, for the first time in a while, as he felt the warm, sticky liquid running off his fingers. Heaven was all of someone's best memories. Would there be a home in Heaven? Would he finally get to know what a home felt like?_

_As Dean's eyelids began to droop and his heart began to shut down, he saw someone right beside him, in the passenger's seat of the car. A weak smile played across his lips, shoulders sagged with the weight of dying._

_"Death..."_

_And, with a soft grin, Death replied. "Come, Dean. Let me being you to them."_

_Dean closed his eyes as Death reached out his bony hand, not a reaper within miles. As Death touched a finger to Dean's shoulder, he reached out his other hand and caught him. He cradled his soul in his arms as a father would his son, for the spirit was too worn out and broken to walk by its own. Getting to his feet, Death carried Dean away, off to the place he would find what he was looking for, yet at the same time leaving him in the car parked off the highway._

_**IN LOVING MEMORY...**_

**DEAN WINCHESTER**

_**Friend•Brother•Savior•Hunter•Hero**_

_**Hero...**_


End file.
